I Can See It, Deep Inside You
by Ms. Unlucky
Summary: Dean get's hit with a curse with more than just one side effect. Sam tries his best, but in the end it's up to Cas to comfort the terrified Hunter. Featuring: De-aged!Dean, Hurt!Dean, Powers! sort of? Dean and Fluff... Um, oh and cuddling. :D


**Author Stuff ~ **Alrighty, so here's a little random something I've been piecing together slowly and (very) randomly. ;) Um, I kinda want to post this on LJ, but I was wondering... Do you _have_ to post your stories into a community? Or can I, like, just post it on my LJ? Would people still be able to see it? o.O

**I Can See It, Deep Inside You**

It's not that he's scared of his brother, it's not, really. But Dean just can't seem to help it. Not just hours after being hit with some de-aging curse, he'd been able to see it, to sense it: a black ominous _essence_ practically oozing from his little brother.

He'd held it together for as long as he could, he didn't talk much or touch Sammy in any way, and he'd hoped his baby brother would just chalk it up to him pouting, Sammy hadn't let him drive his baby back to the motel after all. _(No Dean, you can't even reach the pedals.)_ But then Sammy had gone and called Ruby…

Still mostly keeping to himself, Dean sat on the opposite bed from his brother while Sam worked furiously at his laptop. Sitting there, Dean just… _stared._ The black essence didn't seem to be effecting the outside things around Sammy, and Dean knew his mind was a little muddled from the whammy, but he was almost a hundred and ten percent sure that whatever the black stuff was, it was on the _inside_ of Sammy, like his soul or something.

He wanted to warn his brother–he was a big boy after all, he shouldn't be so useless–but he couldn't get his mouth to work, couldn't get his body to uncurl itself from the ball it had folded itself into and get up and get the bad stuff away from his brother.

And then Ruby had come.

She strut in through the front door of their nondescript motel room like always, but as soon as Dean laid eyes on her, he'd known; he'd seen.

The high pitched yelp that escaped him was odd, he hadn't sounded like that since he was seven thank you very much, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. He'd scrambled off the bed, backed up until he slammed himself into a corner and then curled up into an even smaller ball and _cried._

He wanted to run to Sammy for protection: that leather skinned, pulsating black mass was _terrifying_. Even more scary than SamSammySam's own black essence, but that was it, wasn't it? He was scary too, he didn't feel _right_, hadn't felt right since this whole mess started.

He sensed more than he saw Ruby draw closer. He wrenched his eyes shut tighter, hugged his own small body harder and cried for his daddy. He vaguely realized he hadn't done that since he was seven either, but he didn't care. He just wanted them to go away, for the _darkness to go away._ It was eating his Sammy–Ruby already eaten–and there was nothing he could do.

What if it tried to eat him too?

* * *

><p>Dean wasn't sure what more Sammy wanted from him.<p>

Sitting on his baby brothers lap–who'd joined him in his self proclaimed corner–he sat straight as a board, only letting the necessary parts of him touch his Sam.

Despite his brother's immediate reaction, yelling and screaming until Ruby finally went away, every muscle was wound tight and taut, his spine strung like a cord. Sam kept trying to get him to lay more comfortably on his chest or shoulder, but he'd tug away from his brother's grip and opt for sitting straight while he tried to get himself under control. He'd long since given up getting out of his brother's hold entirely, no matter how much he wanted to…

He'd stopped crying a bit after Ruby had left at least, which must have been an hour ago or so, but he was still shaking. _(Pathetic.)_

Dean was so confused, and his anxieties were only growing. He _wanted_ to be closer to his brother, he _wanted _to be held by him; wanted to lose himself in his baby brother–but he couldn't. There was a barrier between them now–the darkness–and no matter how much he willed it, it just wouldn't go away, wouldn't stop eating up his Sammy. _(Your fault.)_

At the thought, a sob escaped his lips, encouraging his brother to try and hold him closer again, and earning more tears from his thirty-turned-seven year old body.

And that's when he'd felt it, that single most beautiful, bright essence he'd ever felt before. It arrived in a flutter of wings, wings Dean usually couldn't see, but could now.

"_Cas!"_ he sobbed. Dean yanked himself from his brother's _(Restricting, demanding, smothering) _hold and ran to the Angel. _His_ Angel.

Dean gripped the tan trench coat in a vice; buried his face in the Angel's slacks and let all his frustrations and fear fall away with his tears. There was no darkness here, none on the Angel who had saved him from his _own_ darkness not months ago.

He stiffened when he heard the shifting of cloth, the tale tell signs of his brother standing up; drawing closer. He wanted to move away, for Castiel to _take_ him away, but the Angel simply shrouded him in one of his translucent, white wings: protecting him from all outside harm.

"Castiel… What are you doing here?" Sammy sounded bitter, cold, and Dean couldn't fathom why he'd harbor such feelings towards something so pretty and warm as Cas.

"Dean's soul called out to me," the Angel replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He was distressed."

"Yeah, well I've got it from here. You can leave now."

Just the _idea_ of Cas leaving him behind shot paralyzing fear throughout Dean's entire body. He clung tighter to the Angel, his breathe hitching with another sob. _(Everyone abandons you…)_

But the Angel made no move to leave, simply looked down at his charge–still hiding his tear streaked face in his coat–and carded his finger through his dirty blond hair.

"The curse will last only another four hours," said the Angel thoughtfully.

"Okay, wonderful. Thanks for the help Cas, really, but I have everything under control here. You can go."

Dean peeked up from where he had been hiding thus far, and looked into his Angel's impossible blue eyes. He saw no darkness there; knew there'd never _be_ any darkness there. He didn't want his Angel to leave him, and from the slight nod he earned from Castiel, Dean was sure he knew just as much.

"You are in no condition to protect your bother while he is in this weakened state," Castiel looked back up at the 'younger' Winchester. He took in the thin sheen of sweat, discoloration under the eyes and slight shake in the hands. Sam was coming down from the Demon blood; he'd been unable to get more from Ruby since Dean's predicament. He'd guess it to have been several days since he'd last consumed any substantial amount anyways.

The Angel didn't wait for Sam to reply, to protest. He simply spread his wings, laid his hand more firmly on Dean's head, and left. He'd half expected for the older Winchester to complain about the accommodations–the park he and Dean had discussed the failure to stop Samhain and the breaking of yet another seal–but strangely the Hunter was pliant.

They sat there on the bench, neither speaking a word to the other. It was early afternoon here, and children of all ages squealed and laughed in utter joy as they played together. Castiel had thought this a good place for Dean to recover, children were seldom stained by a Demon's touch after all.

Despite his time in Hell, despite his breaking and own sadistic rampage throughout the Pit, Dean had managed to keep his Soul more clean and pure than Castiel could have ever had guessed a damned Soul could be.

He'd seen Dean Winchester's soul in glimpses before his time in Hell, his Deal or even before he became a Hunter, and even now Castiel could see the loving flare that had always been there. Not even Alistair could stamp that out entirely from Dean's being.

"Cas…" Dean's now small, high pitched voice drew the Angel from his thoughts. He looked down to where the child had leaned up against his side; into Dean's red streaked eyes. "I missed you."

The statement at large had caught Castiel completely by surprise. After all, his human charge rarely spoke of emotion, especially those considered more intimate–making him out to be more vulnerable. He chalked it up to the curse–having messed with both Dean's physical age and mental age. (Though more of the latter than he'd first thought.)

Castiel thought about pointing out that Dean had seen him only a week prior, but ultimately chose against it. "I'm never far, Dean. I'm always just a prayer away."

"I know," Dean replied, pouting. "But… that's still so far away. I like it better when you're here."

This too surprised Castiel, and not simply because Dean was admitting he liked the Angel's presence, but because the curse made Dean more open to share, not create feelings. What Dean was saying was true as the mark on his arm claiming him as the Angel's.

Dean lifted Castiel's arm and promptly tucked himself closer to the Angel's side, he sighed heavily, content with just snuggling up to the being that saved him from damnation. It lasted a good half hour before the silence was once again broken from the unfamiliar high pitched voice.

"Will you always be my angel?"

"Yes, Dean," answered Castiel, looking down fondly at his younger human charge. "I will be the one to guide your soul to Heaven."

"You won't leave me?"

"No, I will never abandon you, Dean."

There was a short pause then, Dean looking up from where he'd been covering his face in the Angel's trench coat; Castiel returning the intense look with one of his own before:

"I love you, Cas." Dean mumbles, before shoving his face back into the Angel's side once more; the rest muffled by thin material Dean's snuggling."Forever and ever."

For a moment Castiel isn't sure how to reply. The light shining from the small form beside him is bright with unwavering devotion that Castiel has only seen Dean's soul show towards his younger brother, even when he learned of his Demon blood drinking habits. The Angel knows this undying love is just that: undying. And is uncertain if he deserves such devotion from the young Hunter, after everything he's had to put him through.

In the end though, the answering glow of his Grace wins out and he replies truthfully; whole heartedly: "I love you too, Dean."

The rest of the Dean's remaining time as a child is spent in a comfortable quiet, and before they know it, the four hours are up. Still, if Castiel and Dean linger for another hour or so, basking in the comfort of each others presence, neither of them mentions it.

* * *

><p>My horrible attempt at DeanCas fluff. It isn't even legit Dean/Cas, it's just... like, the-little-Fluff-who-couldn't. But, it's a start. And that's something, right? :DDDDDD


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